


A Love So Deep and Sweet

by Cryo_Bucky, velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, Illustrated, Kid Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Shameless Smut, Top Bucky Barnes, Tutor Bucky Barnes, child illness, mentions of Steve wooing a lady, past Steve Rogers/other, poetry galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryo_Bucky/pseuds/Cryo_Bucky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: Bucky Barnes, impoverished gentleman, begins his new job as the tutor of the eccentric Lord Bedford’s daughter, Annabelle. Neither upstairs nor downstairs, Bucky takes his meals alone in his room, and believes this will be his fate always. But when he meets Lord Bedford, he falls for his employer almost immediately. He knows that he doesn’t stand a chance, but has Bucky underestimated both his own charms and the wiles of his pupil?





	A Love So Deep and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> AaaaAAAAAAH okay so THANK to cryo_bucky for making the most AMAZING romance novel cover for this fic, ILU SO MUCH. Thanks also to Fox for just generally being awesome but also for the read through and suggestions.

 

Bucky looked up at the large house in front of him, as the carriage behind him left towards the stables. He picked up his battered suitcase and walked up the path, ringing the ancient bell outside the imposing wooden door.

A serious-faced man answered, looking sternly at Bucky. “Yes?”

“Uh, Mr James Barnes to see Lord Bedford? I’ve been hired to be—”

“The tutor, yes. Please follow me.” The man led Bucky into a large entrance hall, then turned to him. “Wait here.”

Bucky waited, shifting from foot to foot nervously as the seconds ticked by. He looked around the entrance hall, lined with paintings and one or two ornate mirrors, and up to the coppiced ceiling. At length, the man returned. 

“Follow me, Mr Barnes.” Bucky followed him past the grand staircase to a smaller one, and the man handed him off to a woman. “Mrs Hill is our housekeeper. She will take you to your room.”

Bucky nodded, and smiled at the woman, who did not smile back. “Come with me,” she said, and led him up the small staircase nearly to the top of the house. They walked through a corridor, and Mrs Hill opened a door to a small bedroom. “This is the tutor’s room. The schoolroom is next door. Once you are settled, ring the bell and I’ll have some food sent up to you. I assume you are hungry.”

“Um, yes, thank you.” He paused. “When will I be taken to meet Lord Bedford?”

“Whenever he wishes it,” Mrs Hill said humorlessly. “He works to his own time, not ours.”

“Of course, of course,” Bucky said soothingly. “I assume I will meet the child soon?”

“You will meet her tomorrow morning. She will be having dinner with her father soon and then be going to bed. What time would you like her in the schoolroom?”

He thought for a moment. “Nine o’clock tomorrow morning should be fine.”

Mrs Hill nodded. “You’ll find us an odd household, Mr Barnes,” she said quietly. “Since the mistress passed away, his lordship hasn’t been himself. We don’t really have a routine in the way we used to.”

Bucky looked at her sympathetically, knowing how important routine was for staff. “I’m sorry to hear that. I believe she passed away three years ago?”

“Yes indeed. We had hoped he would have remarried for an heir, but it looks as though that probably won’t happen.” Mrs Hill looked surprised at herself. “Look at me, gossiping away when there’s things to be done. You get yourself settled in.”

Bucky nodded, and Mrs Hill bustled away, inasmuch as a slender woman could bustle. He looked around his room and unpacked quickly, washing his face and hands from the jug of water in the alcove before ringing the bell. 

A maid appeared a few minutes later, carrying a tray, and she giggled when she saw him. “Mr Barnes? Mrs Hill asked me to bring up your dinner.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Wanda, Mr Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you, Wanda. And thank you.”

Wanda giggled again, putting the tray down on the desk, and curtsied before leaving him. Bucky sighed, and resigned himself to a life of never eating with company again. Tutors, like governesses, were neither of the downstairs nor the upstairs. They were somewhere in between, and welcome with neither. 

This wasn’t how he had imagined his life. When he was younger, although his parents hadn’t had much, his wealthy uncle had taken a liking to his young nephew, as well as Bucky’s young sister, Rebecca. He had paid for a good education for Bucky, even funding his study at Oxford University where he had read mathematics. He had graduated with distinction, working hard in order to make his uncle proud. When he had finished his studies, he had returned to his uncle’s home, where he had worked with his uncle’s accounts until the old man’s sudden death that year. 

Although he had provided for both Bucky and Rebecca in life, in death his whole estate had gone to his three children. Spoiled in temperament, and always jealous of their father’s attention to Bucky and Rebecca, they had informed the two siblings that they would no longer be able to live off their uncle’s estate. Becca, who had studied art and restoration at university as well as under a mentor, found employment with her mentor at a large house whose paintings were in desperate need of repair. Bucky had been fortunate enough to find the position here. 

His parents had both been teachers in New York, where Bucky had been born, and had set up a small village school when they had moved to the old country. There they still worked, but there had not been space for another tutor, hence Bucky had not been able to stay with his parents. He missed them now, as he ate his lonely dinner. It was good, filling food, but company adds spice to any meal and that was lacking for him. 

When he had finished his meal, he rang the bell again. Wanda appeared a few minutes later, giggling as she picked up his tray. Bucky smiled at her. 

“Have you worked here long, Wanda?” he asked kindly.

“Oh, five years now, Mr Barnes,” she replied. “I came to the big house when I was fourteen. Started as a scullery maid and now I’m a housemaid. My twin brother, Pietro, he’s a stable boy.”

So she was nineteen now. “It must be nice to work in the same house as your brother,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, yes, sir. It’s a great comfort to have him nearby, especially as we have no other family.” She curtsied and left, and Bucky sighed. He had the feeling that she’d allow him to bed her if he wanted, but he himself was one and thirty, and had no taste for a girl so much younger than himself. 

He picked up one of the books he had brought with him and began to read, losing himself in the story until it grew dark. He checked his pocket watch—an eighteenth birthday present from his uncle—and realized that it was almost midnight. He marked his page with a bookmark and set the book down, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Hopefully the next day would go well. He desperately needed to keep this job.

***

He slept very ill that night—the bed itself was comfortable, but his thoughts were not. He fretted the whole night about his reception by the child, which he knew could affect whether or not he was kept on. His was a tenuous position, he knew all too well, affected heavily by the whims of the child. When Wanda brought his breakfast he was already washed and dressed, and her rather disappointed look confirmed his thoughts from the previous night. 

His breakfast—a hearty one consisting of coffee, eggs, toast, kippers, and sausages—finished, he checked the time. Eight o’clock; still an hour before he had to be in the schoolroom. He rang the bell for Wanda, who arrived quickly. While she was picking up his tray, he smiled at her. “I was thinking of taking a morning walk as it is such a beautiful morning,” he explained. “Is there anywhere I might be permitted to go?’

Wanda nodded. “Why yes, sir. If you wish, I will show you?”

“Thank you, Wanda,” he said gratefully, and took his jacket with him as he followed her down the servants’ staircase to the back door. 

“You may go wherever you please in the grounds, except for the maze,” she told him. “No-one but the gardener is permitted to enter the maze any more, not since…” She lowered her voice. “Not since the mistress passed away.”

“I see,” Bucky said. His lordship must mourn his wife deeply if, three years on, he still felt so. “Thank you for telling me.”

Wanda curtsied in response, and Bucky went outside into the chill of the morning air. He took a brisk walk around the orchard, and came back through the kitchen garden. He saw a woman watching him from the kitchen window, but when he waved she disappeared. 

He sighed to himself and made his way back up to the schoolroom, arriving at ten to nine. A young girl with curly blonde hair was already in there, sitting at the middle desk and kicking her booted feet back and forth. She looked up at him with startlingly blue eyes when he entered. 

“Where have you been?” she asked, though not rudely. 

Bucky smiled at her. “I went for a morning constitutional. Do you know what that means?”

“It means you went for a walk.” She held out her hand. “I’m Annabelle.”

“Mr Barnes.” 

They shook hands, and she looked at him curiously. “You’re not quite what I expected.”

“Am I not?” he responded, laughing.

She shook her head. “Your looks are much nicer than I had thought they would be. I don’t need a tutor, you know,” she said suddenly. “I’m going to be a princess, and princesses don’t need to know things.”

Bucky bit back a smile. “Even princesses have to know literature and mathematics, Annabelle. That is why I am here to teach you.”

Annabelle sighed. “Will you be very strict? Will you keep decent order in the schoolroom? Or will you be too afraid of father’s bad opinion to scold his only daughter?”

Bucky shook his head slightly. “I’d like to think we’d strike a balance. I believe that you can only be respected if you respect others. So my proposal is this: we will respect each other enough to be honest without being rude. For example, if you are too tired and out of sorts for mathematics, perhaps I will read you a story instead, as long as you respect me enough to tell me calmly your reasoning. How does that sound?”

Annabelle looked at Bucky, eyes wide. “You mean that?” she asked.

Bucky nodded. “I do. I don’t believe in lying to children merely because they are young. If I ever refuse to tell you the truth, it is something that I would not divulge to an adult either.”

Annabelle laughed, a high tinkling laugh. “You are very much not what I had imagined.” She gave him a measured look. “In that case, may I call you James?”

Bucky shook his head. “I rather think not. Besides, nobody calls me James. Except sometimes my mother.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“Bucky.”

She laughed again. “Why?”

“My middle name is Buchanan,” he replied, lips twitching, “and when she was small, my younger sister couldn’t say ‘James’ so she called me Bucky. It stuck.”

“I see. Then may I call you Bucky?”

“No, Annabelle, you may not. As I am your tutor, it would be inappropriate.”

Annabelle sighed. “Oh well. What are you going to teach me today?”

“Why don’t we start today by you telling me what you have been taught thus far and then I will know better how to tailor your tutoring? There is no point in me trying to teach you things you already know.”

“Oh. You are very clever, aren’t you?”

Bucky hummed. “Clever, but hopefully not too clever. Too clever people are quite a bore, don’t you think?”

Annabelle giggled, and Bucky smiled. He had a good feeling about this whole job, suddenly.

***

By lunchtime, Bucky had a fair idea of where Annabelle stood in terms of schooling, and already had a lesson plan in mind. Wanda brought their lunch up to the schoolroom where they ate together in companionable silence. After they had finished, Bucky took out a book. 

“I thought we might start with some poetry,” he said. 

Annabelle sighed. “Not Wordsworth,” she whined.

“No, not Wordsworth. I thought we’d start with the Indian poet Ramprasad.”

“Ramprasad?”

“Yes. He wrote many poems, mostly to the goddess Kali. Would you like to hear one?” Annabelle nodded, eyes like saucers, and Bucky hid a smile before beginning.

“A Country Fair for those mad with love.

Drive me out of my mind, O Mother!  
What use is esoteric knowledge  
Or philosophical knowledge  
Transport me totally with the burning wine  
Of your all-embracing love.  
Mother of mystery, who imbues with mystery  
The hearts of those who love you,  
Immerse me irretrievably  
In the stormy ocean without boundary,  
Pure love, pure love, pure love. 

Wherever your lovers reside  
Appears like a madhouse  
To common perception.  
Some are laughing with your freedom,  
Others weep tears of your tenderness,  
Still others dance, whirling with your bliss.  
Even your devoted Gautama, Moses,  
Krishna, Jesus, Nanak and Muhammad  
Are lost in the rapture of pure love. 

This poet stammers,  
Overcome with longing:  
‘When? When? When?  
When will I be granted companionship  
With her intense lovers?’  
Their holy company is heavenly  
A country fair for those mad with love  
Where every distinction  
Between master and disciple disappears 

Their love of love sings:  
‘Mother! Mother! Mother!  
Who can fathom your mystery,  
Your eternal play of love with love?  
You are divine madness, O goddess,  
Your love the brilliant crown of madness,  
Please make this poor poet madly wealthy  
With the infinite treasure of your love.”

As he read, Bucky watched his young pupil’s face, which had taken on a dreamy look as he spoke. When he had finished, she sighed heavily.

“That was beautiful,” she said, enraptured. 

“Would you like to study it?” he asked. 

“Yes, please!”

Bucky nodded, and took his own chair to sit beside her. They discussed the theme of the poetry, the rhyme schemes, and before he knew it, it was time to finish for the day. She put her books away, but hesitated when it came to the poetry book. 

“May I take this with me?” she asked timidly. “I would like to show father.”

Bucky nodded. “You may, but you must take care of it. That book was a present to me from my dear uncle, and as he is no longer with us it is a treasured possession.”

“I promise I will. Thank you, Mr Barnes!”

She took the book and flew from the schoolroom, boots clacking on the ground as she ran, leaving Bucky to tidy up the last of his pens. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at her enthusiasm. He had the feeling he was going to enjoy tutoring her.

***

That evening, after he had finished his dinner and the tray had been cleared away, he was sitting reading when Wanda came to his door again. 

“Begging your pardon for interrupting you, but his lordship would like to see you in his study,” she told him, tone awed. 

Bucky nodded, putting his book down and following her down the staircase to his lordship’s study. She knocked on the door, and at the command, ‘Enter!”, she opened the door. 

“Mr Barnes, my lord,” she said, curtsying, and gesturing for Bucky to enter. Bucky did so, and bowed deeply. 

“My lord,” he said, as Wanda left the room.

He looked up and only just managed not to react when he saw one of the most handsome men he had ever laid eyes on standing behind the desk. “Come, sit,” Steven Rogers, Lord Bedford, said, and Bucky obeyed immediately, striding forward and sitting in the chair opposite his lordship. He was young, with hair a shade darker than his daughter’s, but with the same blue eyes. His features were well defined, and he was well muscled under the linen shirt he wore. Bucky felt his mouth go dry. “So, Mr Barnes, my daughter speaks very highly of you,” his lordship said, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

“I am pleased to hear that, my lord.”

“I understand that you are teaching her about the Indian poet Ramprasad?”

“Yes, my lord. If that is a problem—”

His lordship waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all. Anything that broadens the child’s horizons is a good thing. Although she now wishes to learn more about the goddess Kali so I’m not sure you’ve done yourself any favors.”

“I don’t mind teaching her about such things,” Bucky replied. “It makes the curriculum less monotonous if the child you are teaching has eclectic interests.”

“Very wise indeed.” His lordship looked somewhat amused, and it brightened his whole face. “Did she… did she mention her mother at all?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, my lord.”

“Hmm. I wonder, sometimes, whether she should have someone to talk to about her. I know she does not talk to me because she knows how much it pains me to talk of my wife. Even now…” The lines around his lordship’s eyes became more pronounced and Bucky had to clench his hands into fists so he did not reach for the other man to comfort him. 

“I am truly sorry for your loss, my lord,” Bucky said quietly. 

His lordship shrugged. “You must think it strange, that I grieve so much although it has been a full three years.”

“Not at all, my lord. When you have deeply loved someone, their loss will be painful for a long time. Everyone grieves in their own way.”

His lordship laughed hollowly. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” He didn’t expand, though, which made Bucky wonder, instead changing the subject. “So you say you read mathematics at Oxford?”

Bucky nodded. “Yes. I believe you went to Cambridge, yourself?”

“I did. When did you graduate?”

“Ten years ago.”

His lordship smiled. “I graduated nine years ago. Perhaps we saw each other at the boat race.”

“Perhaps, my lord.” Bucky was quite sure that if he had seen his lordship at the boat race he would have remembered, but didn’t want to say so. Having a crush on his employer was embarrassing enough, but for the employer to know about it would be doubly so.

“If you don’t mind me saying, your accent is a little strange,” his lordship said.

“Yes, my lord. I was born in Brooklyn, New York, where I lived until I was fourteen. We moved to the old country to be near to my mother’s family.”

“What a coincidence!” his lordship said, laughing. “I was born in Brooklyn too! We had to move back, though, when I was seven and my uncle passed away, leaving the title to my father. And then, of course, he passed away two years later, and the title fell to me.”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“It is what it is.” He paused. “My daughter tells me you aim to teach her based on mutual respect?” his lordship added. “You do realize she is only seven years of age?”

“I do, my lord, but in my experience even young children resent being treated as such. If you treat them as people, rather than children, then they are more likely to respond well to you.”

“Interesting. And where did you discover this?”

Bucky blushed. “I have a younger sister, and we had a turbulent few years before I figured this out, my lord.”

His lordship threw back his head and laughed. It was a beautiful sound. Bucky wanted to hear it more often. “That is truly funny, Mr Barnes. I think you will fit in well to our household.” He looked at Bucky, eyes shining with mirth, and Bucky smiled. 

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Well, I do not wish to keep you out of your bed, but it was good to meet you. I hope to hear more from my daughter about your teaching methods.”

“I am sure you will, my lord.” Bucky stood and bowed again, before taking his leave of the study. He made his way up the servants’ staircase to his room and collapsed onto his bed, taking a deep breath. Luckily, it was unlikely he would see his lordship very often, so he would have fewer opportunities to embarrass himself.

***

The following morning, Annabelle arrived at the schoolroom at five minutes to nine, while Bucky was setting up for the day. She smiled at him and collapsed into her seat, sprawling in a rather unladylike fashion. Bucky raised his eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes before sitting up straight.

“I don’t understand why I always have to sit up like this,” she grumbled. “Mama always lay on her sofa while her lady’s maid read to her.”

“Yes, but I understand your mama was poorly,” Bucky responded gently.

Annabelle laughed. “Only for a little while. I think she liked to pretend she was sick before that just to get attention.” Bucky wondered where she had gotten that idea; she could only have been four years old when her mother had passed. Seeing his look, she sighed. “I do remember her, you know. She was always complaining, and she either didn’t want to see me or nearly smothered me with hugs and affection. It was all very confusing.” She paused. “I think father misses her a lot. He doesn’t talk about her. Although when she was alive…” Annabelle trailed off. “I don’t think he liked her very much,” she finished in a whisper. “They were always in different rooms, and I think they had separate bedrooms. The servants told me—”

Bucky cut her off. “Annabelle, it’s best not to listen to servants’ gossip.”

“Why?” Annabelle asked, shrugging. “They know everything.”

“That’s as may be, but some things it’s best not to know. Especially when you’re young as they may be things you don’t understand quite yet. And if your father didn’t like your mother, then why would he miss her so much?”

“I suppose.”

“Now, enough chattering. You say you’ve learned your multiplication tables up to eight?” Bucky asked, and Annabelle nodded. “Well, then, today you will learn nine. Nine is very easy to remember—there’s a trick to it.”

Annabelle’s ears pricked up, and Bucky smiled, although inside all he felt was turmoil at what his young pupil had said. His employer had become even more mysterious.

After lunch, he took Annabelle outside for a nature walk. His uncle had been a great nature lover, and they had spent hours walking through the woods on his estate watching the birds and various woodland animals. He now used his knowledge to educate without lecturing, engaging the child in the lesson, and trying to get her as excited about nature as he had been as a youngster. She responded well to the lesson, seeming as enthusiastic to learn as he was to teach. 

She seemed disappointed that they would not be able to retrieve any birds’ nests yet for study, but as it was spring, Bucky explained to her that the birds were using them for their eggs and it would be very unfair to steal them. “Imagine if someone had stolen you away from your father, how sad he would be,” Bucky said, and her eyes immediately welled up with tears. 

“Oh, Mr Barnes, then we mustn’t take their babies from them! Do people really do that?”

“They do.”

She thought for a moment. “What about hens? We eat their eggs.”

“That is different. When there is no father, the eggs cannot turn into babies,” he explained.

“Oh.” She frowned thoughtfully. “So there has to be a father and a mother for an egg to be a baby bird?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. What about baby humans?”

Bucky smiled at her. “It’s the same with humans.”

“Do humans lay eggs like birds do?”

“No,” Bucky said, swallowing a laugh. “But this is probably something you should ask your father when you’re a little older.”

“But I want to know now!” she said, scowling and stamping her small foot. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t know now.”

Bucky shook his head. “Your father probably won’t tell you yet. So really there’s no point in asking him.”

Annabelle glared at him mutinously. “That’s not fair.”

“Many things in life are not fair, Annabelle,” Bucky said sternly. “It is how you deal with this unfairness that defines who you are.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, and said no more on the subject.

***

That evening, after dinner, Bucky was surprised to be called again into his lordship’s study. When he entered, his lordship was standing by the window looking out into the dark night. 

He turned his head as Bucky approached, and Bucky immediately bowed. “You sent for me, my lord?”

“Yes,” his lordship said, turning around fully, and Bucky could see he was frowning. “Did you tell my daughter to ask me how human babies were made?”

_Damn._ “No, my lord. Or I did, but I told her not to ask until she was older.”

“I see. She told me that you had said that birds needed both a mother and a father for an egg to become a baby bird, but that humans did not lay eggs, and she was curious.”

“May I ask what you told her, my lord?”

His lordship shrugged. “I told her that was true, but that you still needed a mother and father for a human baby, and that I would explain how when she was older. She was… not terribly pleased with my response. Tell me, how did you even get on to avian reproduction?”

“We went on a nature walk, my lord, and I was explaining why we were not going to take birds eggs from the nest.”

“I see. Very admirable.” His lordship’s lips twitched, and Bucky internally heaved a sigh of relief. “Do try not to take her anywhere that animals might be mating, will you? That will probably cause more questions and she is only seven years of age.”

“I will try, my lord.”

His lordship nodded. “Drink?”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Um. Yes, please.”

His lordship smiled and went to the tray on the side. “What’s your poison? Scotch? Brandy? I’m a scotch man myself.”

“Scotch would be great, thank you.”

His lordship nodded and poured a finger of scotch into each glass, then handed one to Bucky. He raised his glass. “What shall we drink to?”

“Your daughter’s education?”

“Indeed.” They clinked their glasses together and sipped at the scotch. “Do sit, Mr Barnes,” his lordship said, and Bucky sat in the chair opposite. “My daughter says I am not allowed to call you James because she is not, but also because you go by a different name altogether?”

Bucky flushed. “Yes, my lord. My family and friends have always called me Bucky.”

“Bucky. It suits you.” His lordship’s eyes were hooded in the lamplight, and Bucky wished he could see the expression in those blue eyes. “My daughter tells me your nickname came from your middle name, because your little sister couldn’t say James?”

“That’s correct, my lord. My middle name is Buchanan.”

“James Buchanan Barnes. Yes, Bucky suits you a lot better.” His lordship smiled, looking almost boyish, and Bucky felt his heart rate speed up. He scolded himself; his lordship wouldn’t be interested in a mere impoverished tutor—not to mention the fact he was still grieving his wife. 

Speaking of which… “Your daughter mentioned her mother today,” Bucky said quietly, and his lordship’s face immediately shuttered. 

“Oh?”

“Yes, my lord. She has some childish memories of her mother when she was unwell, lying on her sofa as her lady’s maid read to her.”

His lordship smiled tightly. “My wife always did that, ill or not. She cared for very little aside from grand parties where she could have a new dress made and receive the admiration from all around her.”

“Annabelle…” Bucky cleared his throat. “Annabelle said that her mother seemed to blow hot and cold with the child. That she either didn’t want to see her or, in Annabelle’s words, ‘smothered her with affection’.”

“So she remembers that,” his lordship said quietly. “I had wondered what she remembered of her mother. Did she say anything else?”

“Some servants’ gossip,” Bucky said carefully. “Nothing more. I told her not to listen to the servants about such things.”

“Why not?” his lordship asked heavily. “They’re usually right.”

“Exactly, and these are some things a child should not hear.”

“For instance that I did not love my wife?” Bucky looked at him in surprise, and his lordship’s mouth twisted. “That we did not even share a room after the first year? That I spent my time in here, and she in the parlor? Oh, it’s all true.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “My lord, I did not mean to—”

“I am sure you did not.” His lordship sighed. “My wife was a trying woman. I was somewhat swept away by her beauty when we first met. Lorraine was… a whirlwind of energy. She decided she was going to marry me and that was that. I had no chance. Once we were married, she continued the facade of love for a while, but after Annabelle was born, she didn’t bother any more. She was more interested in her parties, and playing the invalid.” He took another sip of scotch, and Bucky wondered how much he’d been drinking. As if reading Bucky’s mind, his lordship smiled. “Oh, I’m not drunk. You are just very easy to talk to, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. I’ll probably regret these confidences in the light of day tomorrow. But really, there is no one to whom I can talk about such things, and they do fester.”

“So if you did not love her, then why…?”

“Why do I refuse to entertain in the parlor? Why is the maze off limits? They were her favorite places, and surely the grieving widower would avoid them.” His lordship’s tone was bitingly sarcastic, and Bucky winced to hear it. “No, I avoid these places because they remind me of my folly, of falling for a beautiful face with no substance behind it. The only thing I do not regret about our marriage is Annabelle, and I wonder sometimes if she knows that.”

“I am sure she does, your lordship. She speaks very fondly of you.”

“Does she? Well, that is good to know.”

Bucky finished his scotch and put the glass on the tray. “Thank you for the drink, your lordship, but I should probably be going to bed.”

His lordship nodded. “Yes, yes of course. Well. Thank you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky bowed. “Goodnight, my lord.”

As he reached the door, he heard his lordship say quietly, “Goodnight, Bucky,” and Bucky closed the door quietly behind him before escaping to his room.

***

A week passed, and Bucky saw nothing of his lordship, except on Sunday, when all staff were required to attend church together. His lordship avoided Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky felt a pang in his chest. Clearly his lordship was, as he had predicted, regretting his moment of weakness in divulging his past to Bucky that evening. 

Aside from going to church, the weekends were Bucky’s own, although he spent most of his time in his room catching up on his reading as the weather his first weekend was foul. It was typical April showers, but Bucky didn’t mind the rain. He liked to lie in bed and hear it patter against the large window panes. He found it soothing. 

On Sunday night he once again asked Wanda to fill him a bath, and she did so, waiting expectantly when he was done.

“Thank you, Wanda,” he said with an air of finality, but she was not to be put off.

“Would you not like me to scrub your back, Mr Barnes?” she said coquettishly and Bucky frowned.

“That will not be necessary. Thank you, Wanda.”

Wanda’s face fell. “I beg your pardon, Mr Barnes,” she said stiffly. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you, Wanda, and you’re a very pretty girl, but not like that. I’m sorry. Besides, I’m rather too old for you.”

“Not really, sir, for I’m nearly twenty, and there are only a few years between us.”

“Wanda,” Bucky said firmly. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“Is there… is there someone else?” she asked, gazing at the floor.

“No. There’s no one,” he replied. Would to god there was, but he knew better than to rest his hopes on the master of the house falling for a mere tutor. That kind of thing, he knew, only happened in novels. 

Wanda sighed. “Very well, sir. Ring when you’re done with your bath.”

She left the room, and Bucky heaved a sigh before stripping and climbing into the bath. The water was just this side of too hot to bear, just as he liked it, and he picked up the bar of soap, lathering it before washing himself. When his hand touched his cock, it perked up a little, and he huffed out a breath. It had been a while since he had indulged in self love, and his balls ached for release. 

He began to stroke himself slowly, letting his mind drift and the sensations wash over him. His other hand he pressed against his balls, playing with them. He took his time, letting the feelings build leisurely, now and again concentrating on the head of his cock before drawing back and going back to stroking the shaft. 

A sudden image of Lord Bedford came into his head and his hand sped up as he thought about those full lips on his, and the muscled physique under his shirt. He thought about how it would feel to have those lips wrapped around his cock, and he groaned as he came without warning. Bucky sat back, panting, and shook his head. No good could come of fantasizing about his employer. He finished washing up and dressed in his nightshirt, before ringing for Wanda to come and empty the bath water. Before she came up, however, he mopped up his essence from where it floated on top of the water. She did not need to know of his shame.

***

The next morning when she brought his breakfast, Wanda seemed to have forgotten propositioning him the night before in her excitement. “The master is holding a dinner party on Saturday evening,” she told him. “He has not done this for a while, and so rarely since the mistress passed away. Cook has already started planning the menu!”

When she had left him, Bucky sighed. So his lordship had decided to have a dinner party. He knew that he would not be invited—servants never were, and he was but a servant. He ate his breakfast slowly, lost in thought. He wondered if his lordship was thinking of marrying again. He did, after all, have to produce an heir. The thought depressed Bucky so much that he ate only half his breakfast, unable to stomach any more. Wanda looked at him with concern when she came to take his tray but said nothing. 

He was somewhat subdued in the schoolroom that day as he taught his young pupil division, and his mood did not escape her notice. 

“Father is giving a dinner party this weekend,” she said softly. “Did you hear?”

“I did,” Bucky replied carefully.

“The servants think he is considering taking another wife. What do you think?”

“I think it’s none of my business.”

He turned back to the chalkboard, writing some equations up. When he turned around again, Annabelle was watching him with narrowed eyes. “Mr Barnes,” she said seriously, “what do you think of my father?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “I don’t really know your father well enough to have formed an opinion. His servants like and respect him, however, which means he must be a good man, which counts for a lot in my book.”

She nodded. “I think so too, but I mean… what do you think of his looks?”

“His looks?” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Why does that matter?”

“Just curious. Do you think he’ll have much difficulty finding another wife?”

Bucky sighed. “No. I think any sane woman would jump at the chance of marrying a man like your father.”

She nodded again, thoughtfully. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Would you jump at the chance to marry him?”

Bucky fought a blush. “I believe that this conversation is inappropriate, and will cease immediately.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Annabelle. That is personal, and we are not here to talk about the personal, we are here to talk about division.” He pointed to the board. “Now, please copy down these equations and see what you make of them.”

***

The week flew by, with no further word from his lordship. Bucky knew in his heart of hearts that the short tête-à-tête with the master of the house was unlikely, if not impossible, to be repeated. His lordship had no interest in Bucky aside from his competency as a tutor for his daughter. The thought made his heart clench in his chest, but he was resigned to the facts. He was probably doomed for bachelorhood.

On Saturday afternoon—a bright afternoon with the sun shining through the trees in the orchard in a rather pleasing way—Bucky returned from a wander around the gardens to find his lordship standing in the kitchen garden, looking at the various herbs and vegetables which were beginning to sprout. 

Bucky cleared his throat, and his lordship looked around, smiling gently when he saw Bucky. 

“Mr Barnes.”

“My lord,” Bucky replied, bowing.

“I’m afraid my dinner party may not be able to go ahead this evening,” his lordship said quietly. “One of my guests is unwell, meaning there would be thirteen at table, and we both know that is unacceptable.”

“It is certainly considered to be unlucky,” Bucky replied cautiously. 

“I have a thought, but it requires your permission,” his lordship continued.

“Mine, my lord?”

“Yes.” His lordship gave Bucky a half smile. “You see, it’s terribly hard to find guests on such short notice, so I was hoping that you would be able to stand in for the gentleman who is so unwell. If, of course, you have no prior engagements.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. “I… My lord, I would be honored to join your dinner party.”

His lordship’s smile widened, crinkling his eyes at the corners. He looked so breathtaking that Bucky’s heart hurt. “Excellent. Thank you, Mr Barnes. Your agreement is much appreciated.” He turned to walk towards the orchard, then turned back. “I must warn you, however, you may be seated next to Lady Elizabeth Archer, who is somewhat of a bore.”

So he wouldn’t be sitting next to his lordship, then. Bucky tried not to let his disappointment show, smiling instead. “I will handle her with tact, my lord, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. Merely concerned that you might fall asleep in your soup,” his lordship said with a grin, before turning again and heading out into the grounds. 

Bucky tripped lightly into the house and up the stairs to his room, dusting off his good suit when he got there. He knew he looked well in tails, and hoped that his lordship would think so too. 

He dressed carefully that evening, making sure that his hair was tied back tidily and his facial hair was not long enough to be scraggly. As he walked towards the dining room, he saw his lordship coming out of his study. His lordship’s eyes widened when he saw Bucky, and he strode up to him. 

“My goodness, Mr Barnes, you do clean up rather well,” he said playfully. “Now, are you ready to meet my guests? They are all in the dining room already.”

“Yes, my lord.”

His lordship paused. “Don’t let them bother you if they make any remarks about you being a spare. Just remember that I’m glad you’re there,” he said quietly, before going into the dining room, leaving Bucky speechless in the hallway. He looked around, but there were no servants who might have heard his lordship’s comment, and he took a deep breath before going into the dining room himself and sitting at his place. He was halfway down the table, so too far away to make conversation with his lordship, but when he looked up he saw his lordship watching him with something unreadable in his gaze, and Bucky blushed, before looking away. 

About half way through the dinner, Bucky heard his name and looked up. His lordship smiled at him. “Mr Barnes, I was just telling Lady Tremaine that you were teaching my daughter the poetry of Ramprasad.”

“A bold choice, Mr Barnes,” Lady Tremaine said with a laugh. “My governess teaches my daughters Keats and Wordsworth, so their heads are full of ridiculous notions. I must say I cannot abide Wordsworth.”

“I confess I have no taste for him myself, Lady Tremaine,” Bucky replied, smiling. “But I find Ramprasad’s poetry quite moving, and so on my first day here I thought it a good way to get my pupil’s attention.”

“A fine idea indeed,” Lady Tremaine responded. “If his lordship is not careful, I may steal you from him.”

They laughed, and Lady Tremaine turned back to his lordship, while Bucky turned back to Lady Elizabeth to hear her tenth tale about her Pekingese, Wilfy. 

After dinner, Bucky was set to make his way back up to his room, but his lordship caught him as he made to leave. “Going so soon?” his lordship murmured. 

“I assumed that I had fulfilled my role for the evening,” Bucky replied with a smile. 

“Not at all; I believe Lord Tremaine would like to discuss some mathematical theory with you. He was quite taken when I told him you had studied at Oxford.”

“Of course, my lord,” Bucky responded, surprised, and allowed himself to be led over to Lord Tremaine, who immediately launched into a discussion on Brill-Noether theory. Bucky, whose thesis had been on that very theory, was immediately ready with his own counter arguments. As the discussion became more animated, Bucky was aware of Lord Bedford watching him, a small smile on his face, until he was accosted by a young lady who Bucky believed was the eldest daughter of Lady Elizabeth. She looked to be about two and twenty, fresh faced with brown hair and dark eyes. Bucky believed that her name was Mary, and his heart sank as he saw his lordship laughing and joking with her. 

After that, he excused himself as soon as he could and headed up to his room, cursing himself on the way. He was only a servant, he told himself. Only a servant. 

***

The next morning, Bucky awoke to see Annabelle hovering over him, and he nearly fell out the bed in shock. 

“Annabelle, what on earth are you doing in my bedroom?” he scolded her. 

“I’m sorry Mr Barnes,” Annabelle said breathlessly, “But Wanda told me that father was getting on very well with Lady Elizabeth Archer’s daughter Mary last night and that he probably intends to woo her!”

Bucky swallowed hard. “What your father intends or does not intend to do with his personal life is none of my business.”

“But it is mine! I don’t want him to woo her.” Annabelle’s mouth set in a stubborn line and Bucky sighed. 

“Annabelle, there are some things which will happen in life that you don’t want to happen but are going to happen anyway. You have to learn to accept that,” Bucky said gently. “Now, please, go back to your own room and let me get up and dress.”

Annabelle frowned, but nodded. “Okay. I suppose I will see you at church.”

“You will,” Bucky said, smiling. “Now shoo!”

Annabelle laughed and shooed. As soon as she was out the room, Bucky’s face fell. So it began.

***

When Monday came, the house was all abuzz. His lordship, Wanda informed Bucky when she brought his tray that morning, had decided to spend some time in his London home. 

“Of course, Miss Mary Archer lives in London with her parents,” Wanda said sagely. “So I suppose it’s only natural his lordship would want to spend some time there.”

Bucky nodded distractedly. “Yes, of course,” he murmured. “Will the household be going with him?”

Wanda shook her head. “Only Mr Stark, the butler, Mrs Hill, and Cook. And you, I would imagine,” she said with a giggle. “Oh, you are lucky.”

Bucky smiled tightly. Lucky. Right.

***

The following Saturday they left for London. Bucky, much to his surprise, was asked to go in his lordship’s coach. He assumed it was to entertain Annabelle on the long trip. The journey would take seven hours, changing horses at St Albans, and Bucky knew that Annabelle would doubtlessly be bored.

When he climbed into the carriage, his lordship smiled at him. “Are you ready for the long journey, Mr Barnes?”

“I believe so, my lord.”

“I’m not,” Annabelle whined. “I don’t see why we have to go into London. It smells and it’s crowded and I don’t like it.”

“Annabelle,” his lordship said, his tone a warning. “We’ve discussed this. We are going to London for a few weeks.”

Annabelle scowled but subsided. Bucky smiled at her.

“How about we play a nature game to pass the time?” he asked her. His lordship looked at Bucky gratefully as Annabelle immediately perked up.

“What kind of game?”

“We get points for whatever we spot first. So a herd of cows is ten points, a rabbit is five, horses are fifteen, and a pure white horse is fifty. The first person to reach 100 points is the winner.”

Annabelle nodded and they both stared out the carriage windows at the passing fields. Annabelle won the first game, and Bucky the second, before Annabelle sighed. 

“Perhaps we can rest now. It’s a very good game, though, Mr Barnes!”

“My uncle and I used to play it on long journeys, so I’m pleased you enjoyed it, Annabelle,” Bucky said softly. “But I think a rest is a good idea so you are refreshed when we arrive.”

Annabelle nodded and lay against her father’s side. Within moments she was asleep.

His lordship smiled at Bucky. “You really are very good with her,” he murmured. “Would that I were as good at dealing with her.”

Bucky shrugged. “She’s a good child. And a fairly easy one. I remember my younger sister was exceptionally strong willed as a child and not quite so easy to manage.”

“Tell me more about your sister.”

“She was always into everything. She’s five years younger than I am, and when we were children she would follow me around. Not because she had any kind of hero worship, you understand, but because she didn’t want me to have fun without her there.” Bucky smiled nostalgically. “She always wanted what I had too. She was a bit of a brat,” he finished, laughing softly. 

“When did she grow out of that?”

“By the time she was in her teens she had decided that her older brother was too boring, and began to focus on her art. My uncle saw that she had a real talent and when the time came for her to go to university she chose to study art and restoration. She studied under a mentor along with her university studies, and works with him now I believe.”

“Do you know where she is at the moment?”

“France, I think. Her work takes her all over the continent, but France especially because so many works were damaged during the revolution. She genuinely enjoys her work, and I think she may be almost glad that she no longer has to stay at home.”

His lordship nodded. “And you? Do you enjoy your work?”

“I do, my lord. Your daughter is a joy to teach. There is nothing a tutor likes more than an enthusiastic pupil in his schoolroom.”

“And you find her so?”

“I do. Although she is not best pleased when it is a day when we are studying division.” Bucky smiled, and his lordship smiled back.

“I notice a great difference in her since you came to us, Mr Barnes. She is more talkative at the dinner table, telling me all about your lessons. I believe she likes you a great deal.”

“That is indeed pleasing to hear, my lord. Thank you.”

They fell into silence for a while, until Bucky found himself drifting off to the rocking of the carriage. The next thing he knew, his lordship was shaking him awake. 

“Mr Barnes? We have arrived.”

Bucky blinked his eyes open. “I apologize, my lord,” he said, voice sleep-hoarse. “I did not mean to sleep so long.”

His lordship smiled. “It’s fine. You obviously needed the sleep. I myself managed a few hours.”

Annabelle was somewhat out of sorts, having been woken up, but by the time they got into the house she was much more alert, greeting all the servants by name and begging for treats from the kitchen maids.

Bucky looked at his pocket watch—it was three o’clock in the afternoon, and he was hungry. As he had slept through lunch, however, he would have to wait until dinner time.

One of the maids showed him to his room, and he unpacked, before taking out one of his books and settling down to read.

***

The next day was Sunday, and after church, Bucky found Annabelle in the schoolroom, staring morosely down at her feet. He sat next to her, smiling down at her.

“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Annabelle shrugged. “You know he saw that Mary woman at church today.”

Yes, Bucky was aware of that. “And?”

“They’ve made arrangements to go riding through the park tomorrow,” Annabelle said woefully. “Oh, not just them—father’s friends Sir Samuel and his wife Lady Natasha are going with them, as well as some others—but it means they’ll be seen together. And people do gossip so in London.”

“Annabelle, your father clearly likes her, if he wishes to spend time with her,” Bucky said, ignoring the pang in his own heart. “You should be happy for him that he is happy.”

“I don’t think he is, though,” Annabelle retorted. “He’s distracted, and frowns a lot.”

“Ours is not to wonder why,” Bucky told her. “Your father is his own man, and will do what he likes. But he would not do anything that was not in your best interests too. Your father loves you.”

“Oh, I know that. But if a pretty woman turns his head, who’s to say?”

“Annabelle!” Bucky exclaimed, shocked. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

Annabelle shook her head obstinately. “Sha’n’t tell you. But it’s true. It’s what happened with mama, and so it could happen again.”

Bucky frowned. “You need to stop listening to servants’ gossip, Annabelle. Your father will do as he pleases, as is his right as a grown man, and life for you and I will go on unchanged.”

“Unchanged for you, perhaps.”

“And unlikely to be much changed for you either.” He patted her gently on the shoulder. “Now, you should go to your playroom and enjoy yourself, unless you want to read more poetry with me on your day off.”

“Can we?”

Bucky looked at her, startled. “If you want to.” He picked up the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám and began to read to her, smiling when she closed her eyes, concentrating on each word.

***

While they were in London, his lordship seemed to have a social engagement every day. Whether it was a dinner party, a luncheon, a ball, or a ride through the park, it seemed as though he went everywhere with Miss Mary Archer. The Tattler had picked up on the amount of time they were spending together, and the popular paper was speculating how long the courtship would be.

Bucky lived in hope that there would be thirteen at table again, and their third week in town it finally happened. Bucky found himself sitting beside his lordship’s good friend Lady Natasha Wilson; her husband, Sir Samuel Wilson on her other side. Lady Natasha took a liking to Bucky, and drew him into all her conversations. She was a witty conversationalist, as was her husband, and Bucky would have truly enjoyed himself were it not for the fact of Miss Mary Archer sitting beside his lordship, laughing and joking with him as though they were the only two people in the room.

After dinner, as the gentlemen drank brandy in the study, his lordship approached Bucky and Sir Samuel where they were conversing about recent literature in the corner. 

“You gentlemen seem to be deep in conversation,” his lordship said with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I must steal Mr Barnes away for a moment.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and Sir Samuel laughed. “Not at all, as long as you return him to me in the condition you found him.”

They all laughed, and his lordship led Bucky to the far corner of the room. “Mr Barnes, I must speak with you about my daughter. She has been out of sorts for as long as we’ve been in town. Is she…” His lordship frowned. “Are the memories of her mother too much?”

Bucky shook his head. “She has not mentioned her mother at all.”

“Then has she mentioned why she has been so surly these past few weeks?”

Bucky knew he had to tread carefully. “I think that she misses you,” he replied at length. “You have been very sociable while in town and not spending quite so much time with her. I believe she may be jealous of your friends.”

His lordship smiled. “Is that all? I wish she had come to me. I’ll definitely make an effort to be more present for her, and spend a little more time with her. Perhaps I could make a visit to the schoolroom tomorrow, if you are amenable?”

“Certainly, my lord.”

“Then it’s settled. I shall return you now to my dear Sir Samuel.” His lordship paused, then lowered his voice. “By the way, have I mentioned how handsome you are in your tails? You outshine every man here, including myself.”

Before Bucky could respond, his lordship was already walking back towards Sir Samuel, and Bucky could only follow him.

***

Bucky awoke slowly the next morning, blinking his eyes open—

—to meet Annabelle’s wide blue ones. He cried out, startled, before glaring at the child.

“Annabelle, what have I told you about coming into my room in the mornings?” he groaned.

“So sorry, Mr Barnes,” Annabelle gasped out, “but the servants are saying that father is to be engaged to that Mary woman!”

“What have I told you about listening to servants’ gossip?” he chided her, even while his own heart broke in his chest. 

“Yes but this is awful! I don’t want him to marry her!”

Bucky could sense her rising hysteria and sought to calm her. “Annabelle, you don’t know for sure that this is true. And if it is, would it be so bad?”

“She would be my stepmother! And everyone knows stepmothers are awful.”

“Have you been reading fairytales again? Annabelle, stepmothers aren’t always horrible people. Sometimes they’re nice, and kind.”

“She wouldn’t be,” Annabelle said obstinately. “I know she wouldn’t. Her servants don’t like her because she’s mean to them.”

“And how do you know that?” Annabelle remained stubbornly silent. “More servants’ gossip, I assume.” Bucky sighed. “Annabelle, I wish I had all the answers, but I’m afraid I don’t. I am no more in your father’s confidence about such matters than you are. I am only a mere servant, so he is hardly likely to confide in me about his future plans for matrimony, were he to have any.”

Annabelle frowned. “If you can’t help me then I’ll just have to do it myself,” she said decidedly, before running from the room.

Bucky flopped back on the bed. That child was getting out of hand, and he should probably raise a concern with his lordship before she did something they would all regret. 

When he arrived at the schoolroom, however, Annabelle was nowhere to be seen. He waited and waited for her, but by half past nine he was getting impatient. He went down to his lordship’s study and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” his lordship called, and Bucky strode in and bowed, before noticing that Annabelle was cuddled on his lordship’s lap. “My apologies, Mr Barnes,” his lordship said softly. “I should have informed you that Annabelle was with me. I hope you were not worried.”

“I was a little, my lord, but I am glad to see her safe,” Bucky replied. 

His lordship nodded. “If you don’t mind, I think Annabelle needs to take the day off today, and spend some quality time with me.”

Bucky smiled. “I think that is an excellent idea, my lord. Please let me know if you require my services.” He bowed again and went out, wondering exactly what Annabelle had said to her father. 

***

The following day, the household was in an uproar. His lordship had told them all that he was returning to Bedford indefinitely and they were to prepare for the journey immediately. Speculation ran rife through the servants. Had he changed his mind about Miss Archer? Had he asked and she had refused? Was there another woman on his mind? Bucky, for once, listened avidly to every piece of gossip the servants were willing to divulge. He wondered if this had anything to do with Annabelle.

Within two days they were making the return journey up to Bedford. Bucky once again rode in the carriage with his lordship and Annabelle, but as Annabelle slept the whole way and his lordship stared out the carriage window with unseeing eyes—eyes with bags underneath as though he had not slept for a week—the journey was passed in silence. 

When they arrived back at the house, his lordship carried Annabelle from the carriage and disappeared into the house without a word to Bucky, and Bucky’s heart sank. He could not help but wonder if he had done something to displease his lordship. Bucky took his suitcase and trudged sadly up to his room. Everything seemed so hopeless. 

The next day, however, Annabelle was back in the schoolroom, looking bright and cheerful. She said nothing about recent events, and Bucky did not wish to pry into his lordship’s private affairs. 

Just after lunch, the schoolroom door opened and his lordship strode in, smiling. He looked considerably better than he had the day before—the bags under his eyes were gone, and his eyes were bright. 

“My lord,” Bucky said, standing and bowing.

His lordship waved a hand, sitting down on one of the chairs. “Pretend I’m not here, please, and carry on.”

Bucky nodded, and continued to quiz Annabelle on her multiplication. She faltered more than usual, but Bucky assumed that was because she was nervous about her father listening to her, and gave her a little more leeway than normal. His lordship stayed until the end of the school day, and after Annabelle had run out, he approached Bucky. 

“How is she doing in her studies?” his lordship asked.

“Very well, my lord. She enjoys literature more than mathematics, and art more than literature, but she does very well across the board.”

“What about geography?”

Bucky laughed. “I do not believe she even rates geography, although she rather excels at it.”

His lordship smiled. “Don’t tell Annabelle this, but I was much the same as a child. Although literature was my favorite subject. What are you working on at the moment?”

“She favors poetry over books, so we are currently reading the poetry of Hafiz. ‘What is the root of all these words? One thing: Love. But a love so deep and sweet it needs to express itself with scents, sounds, colors that never before existed’.”

His lordship looked thoughtful. “Do you believe in such a love?”

_“I feel so for you,”_ Bucky wanted to cry out. Instead, he smiled wanly. “I would like to,” he said slowly. “I think such a love must exist, for so many poets and writers write about it.”

His lordship stood and walked over to Bucky, standing close enough almost to touch. “And have you ever felt such a love?”

Bucky’s heart sped up. “My lord, I—” he began, but at that moment Wanda rushed into the room.

“My lord! Annabelle fell into the pond. We have got her out and she seems to be alright, but Mr Stark has called the doctor.”

His lordship’s eyes widened and he ran from the room behind Wanda without a backwards glance. Bucky sagged against the desk. That had been too close for his liking. If he had betrayed himself… better to leave than to face his lordship again. But he hoped he had not. 

He went back to his room and rang the bell, and Wanda appeared soon after. “How is Annabelle?” he asked, and Wanda’s face fell. 

“She is in bed, Mr Barnes, but she is pale as a ghost. We are all praying it does not turn into pneumonia—or worse, consumption. Her mother and his lordship’s mother both passed away from consumption, you know, so it runs on both sides of the family.”

Bucky nodded, suddenly afraid. “Thank you, Wanda.” She curtsied and left him, and he began to pace, praying that the child would be alright. 

That evening, after dinner, Bucky was summoned to his lordship’s study. When he entered, his lordship was slumped on the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“My lord?” Bucky said softly, and his lordship looked up at Bucky with red rimmed eyes. 

“Mr Barnes,” he croaked, before clearing his throat. “I, uh, my daughter is very unwell, and will not be in the schoolroom for a while.”

Bucky nodded. “What did the doctor say?”

“She has a fever, but hopefully it will not turn into anything more serious. We are to keep an eye on her. He hopes that she was brought out in time.” His lordship’s eyes filled with tears. “If she doesn’t recover… my god, what am I to do?”

Ignoring all decorum, Bucky went and sat next to his lordship, pulling him into a hug. His lordship began to sob on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky held him close. Part of him knew that what he was doing was indecorous, but another part did not care. He was suddenly aware of just how much he loved the man he was holding, and how much he cared for the child, and he blinked back his own tears. 

“May I… My lord, is it too much to ask that I am permitted to read to her while she is unwell?” Bucky asked softly.

His lordship pulled back, looking Bucky in the eyes. “I believe she would like that very much. Thank you, Mr Barnes.” He wiped at his own eyes, sniffing. “I would not have the servants see me like this,” he said quietly. “I would not want for them to lose hope.”

“And you must not either, my lord,” Bucky responded earnestly. “Your daughter may not be out of the woods yet, but neither is her situation hopeless. You must continue to pray for her speedy recovery, as we all will.”

His lordship nodded, smiling wanly. “Of course. Thank you again.” 

Bucky was hit with a strong urge to lean in and kiss him, but he knew that it was not the right time for such a thing and held himself back. Instead, he stood. “You should try and get some sleep, my lord. Hopefully she will be much recovered in the morning.”

But by morning, her fever had turned to pneumonia, and the doctor was seen to shake his head. His lordship sat by her bedside, refusing to be moved, and Bucky was sure to go in a few times a day to read to her. Whether she heard him or not in her fevered state was a matter for debate, but he hoped at least that the soft rhythm of words might soothe her mind. 

After a week, where her life hung in the balance, the doctor came to examine her, and smiled at both his lordship and Bucky. “I believe the biggest danger has passed,” he said softly. “Her fever has broken, and her chest is not crackling so much. Keep her warm, and quiet, and she will hopefully recover.”

As soon as the doctor was out the room, taking the nurse with him, his lordship pulled Bucky into a hug.

“Oh god, did you hear that?” he asked, his voice muffled against Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky patted him on the back. “I did, your lordship. But pneumonia takes a long time to recover from, so we must do as the doctor and nurse say. She will feel better before she is better, and keeping her confined to her bed will be a chore.”

His lordship pulled back, clearing his throat. “Yes, of course, you’re right, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky felt the loss immediately, and the sudden distance between them, and wondered what he’d done wrong. But at that moment the nurse bustled in, and he left his lordship with his daughter.

***

As Bucky had predicted, Annabelle’s recovery was long, and keeping her in bed when she started to feel better was difficult. She would not listen to the nurse, or her father, and continued to try and slip out when they were not looking.

Eventually, Bucky sat with her, giving her a fond look. “So I hear you’ve been trying to escape the nurse.”

Annabelle scowled. “I’m much better, Mr Barnes. I don’t see why I can’t go out and play. It’s such a nice day.” She looked out the window at the sunshine wistfully, and Bucky patted her hand.

“You’re still recovering, Annabelle. If you do too much at this stage, you might catch pneumonia again, and this time you probably would not be so lucky.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. “But if I’m better—”

“You’re not completely better,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “You still have a way to go, and it’s still dangerous for you to get out of bed. Listen to the nurse. Listen to your father. I know it’s dull, but they do know what is best for you right now.”

Annabelle frowned. “Will you come and read to me? Every day?”

Bucky smiled at her. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she said decidedly. “You and father must visit together, and you should read to both of us. If you do that, I’ll do what the nurse says. I’ll even take my medicine without complaining too much.”

Bucky’s lips twitched as he hid a smile. “Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

“Well in that case it would be my pleasure. I was thinking I might read you some Rudyard Kipling. The Jungle Book is a marvelous collection of stories about India.”

Annabelle smiled. “Alright, Mr Barnes. Let’s start with that, then.”

And so every day for the next two weeks, Bucky would go and sit with his lordship and Annabelle, reading to them for a half hour at a time. When Annabelle complained that it wasn’t long enough, he smiled at her. “Perhaps not for you, but hear how scratchy my throat has become? A half hour is as long as I can read at a time. But perhaps I could come back later with your father and read some more?”

Annabelle looked thoughtful. “I suppose that would be acceptable,” she agreed, and Bucky and his lordship exchanged a small smile. 

At the end of the two weeks, the doctor declared Annabelle well enough to get out of bed. “You might find yourself a little more breathless than usual, miss,” he said to her, “so you mustn’t run around as much. And you must stay indoors for at least the next two weeks.”

Annabelle sighed at this pronouncement, but nodded. “Yes, doctor.”

“Good girl.” 

The following day, when Bucky went to the schoolroom, there was a small bunch of peonies on his desk. He smiled when Annabelle came in. 

“Thank you for the flowers, Annabelle. How did you know these were my favorites?”

Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, Mr Barnes. They’re not from me. Perhaps you have a secret admirer.”

Bucky looked at the flowers curiously. Then who on earth were they from?

A few days later, he was summoned to his lordship’s study. When he entered, his lordship strode towards him, a single red rose in hand. “Was this you?” he asked, voice low, and Bucky shook his head.

“No, my lord. Was it not your daughter?”

“I doubt that very much, for it came with this.” He held out a sheet of paper, on which was printed:

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep,  
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,  
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look  
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,  
And loved your beauty with love false or true,  
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,  
And loved the sorrows of your changing face”

Bucky looked up from the sheet of paper, blushing. “My lord, I did not leave this here.”

His lordship’s face shuttered. “Very well. You may go.”

Bucky turned to go, then thought of the peonies on his desk, and turned back, laughing. “I believe it may have been your daughter, my lord, but she may have wished you to think it me.”

His lordship looked at Bucky curiously. “For what purpose? And why would you think so?”

“Because I found a bunch of peonies on my desk, and Annabelle claimed they must be from a secret admirer. I assume she was hoping that I would think it to be you. And as to what purpose, why don’t we ask her?”

His lordship’s lips twitched. “That is an excellent idea.” He rang the bell, and when Wanda appeared, he smiled at her. “Wanda, please bring my daughter to me, thank you.”

They sat on the sofa together, awaiting Annabelle’s arrival. When she came in, she looked at them, before spotting the rose in her father’s hand and coming forward eagerly. 

“Why, father, what a pretty flower!” she said, smiling widely. “Where did that come from?”

“Annabelle,” her father said sternly. “Please drop the pretense. Both Mr Barnes and I know it was you, and we would like to know why.”

Annabelle’s face fell and she scuffed her kid boots against the wooden floor. “I just…” She sighed. “I see the way you look at each other when no one else is around, and I wanted to give you a push in the right direction.”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. “Annabelle, what are you talking about?” he asked hoarsely.

“I know you’re in love with my father. And father, I know you’re happier when Mr Barnes is around. You look at him the way you never looked at mama. Like he hung the moon. And I just thought maybe if you thought that you had given each other flowers that you might talk about it and then I would have two fathers rather than a wicked stepmother.”

“Annabelle,” his lordship said slowly, “I believe your heart was in the right place, but it’s not nice to meddle so in grownups’ affairs.”

“I’m sorry, father,” Annabelle replied, her eyes filling with tears. “I just want you to be happy.”

Her father nodded. “You may go back to the playroom. We will talk more about this later.”

“Yes, father.” Annabelle trooped from the room, her shoulders slumped and her feet scuffing across the wood. 

When she was gone, his lordship turned to Bucky. “I believe she meant well,” he said softly, “and I’m sorry for any offense she has caused you.”

“She caused no offense, my lord,” Bucky replied, and his lordship’s eyes widened.

“Do you mean to tell me that what she said was true?”

Bucky felt the flutter of panic in his chest and stared at the floor. “It… it was all true, my lord,” he said at length. “I apologize. I will pack my things immediately.”

He stood to go, but his lordship grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him back down onto the sofa. “Do you mean to tell me that you love me?”

Bucky looked up into his lordship’s eyes, which were filled with such emotion that Bucky’s heart leapt. “I do, my lord,” he confessed. “I cannot help it.”

“For how long?”

“How can you tell? I believe I began to fall for you the moment we met, but I cannot place the exact moment that I knew I was in love, for it happened so gradually that I was in love before I knew it.”

His lordship smiled softly. “You should have told me.”

“And risk losing everything?”

“Don’t be silly,” his lordship replied. “When I have been so in love with you as to barely be able to breathe when you are there?”

Bucky gasped. “But I thought… Miss Archer?”

His lordship looked down. “Forgive me for that. I did not think you cared, and sought to forget you. But in the end I could not marry her.” He looked back into Bucky’s eyes. “I loved you too much.”

“My lord, I—”

His lordship frowned. “Call me Steve, for god’s sake. If we are to be married—”

“Married?” Bucky could barely believe his ears, and his lordship—Steve—smiled at him.

“Do you not wish to marry me?” Steve asked, laughing. “If you intend to break my heart and refuse me, please tell me now.”

“My lord. Steve. I want nothing more in this world.”

Steve smiled at him. “Bucky, my love. I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s alright.” Bucky nodded, and Steve leaned in. Their lips met, and it was like lightning between them. Bucky gasped, and Steve used that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Bucky moaned against Steve’s mouth as they kissed, and Steve shifted over so he was straddling Bucky. “God, I want you,” Steve groaned, and Bucky smiled. 

“You can have me whenever you want, however you want, my love.” Bucky kissed him again. “Although maybe not here where there’s a strong likelihood either your daughter or one of the servants will walk in on us.”

Steve laughed. “You’re right. And I want to do this properly, so we should probably wait until our wedding night.” Steve leaned down to kiss him again, and again. “It’s going to be hard to keep my hands off of you, though, so I’m thinking about a short engagement.”

Bucky smiled. “A short engagement sounds perfect. But you know, the servants will talk, as will your friends.”

Steve waved a dismissive hand. “Let them talk. I married once for good opinion, now I marry for love. A love so deep as to be endless. ‘A love so deep and sweet it needs to express itself with scents, sounds, colors that never before existed’.”

“You remember that?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“I do. It was at that moment that I allowed myself to hope, in a way I had not allowed myself before. The look in your eyes when I asked you if you had ever felt a love like that… Tell me, my love, is it so for you?”

“It is,” Bucky confessed. 

“Then the hell with the world.”

“And your lack of heir?”

Steve shrugged. “My estate will go to a distant cousin, but I have money from my mother—and her mother—which is in trust for Annabelle. Besides, she may marry well herself. Or perhaps she will become an explorer, or a poet. She has all her years ahead of her to decide, and we have all the years ahead of us to spend together.” He paused. “Tell me, do you mind that you will suddenly have a seven year old daughter?”

Bucky laughed. “I am very fond of Annabelle, so I will not mind in the least.”

“I did not think you would, but I thought I should check.” Steve leaned down and kissed him again. “Oh, Bucky, my Bucky, my love, we will be the happiest couple in the kingdom, you wait and see.”

“I believe we shall,” Bucky replied. And he did.

“Come. We had best tell Annabelle our news,” Steve said, getting up and pulling Bucky up by the hand. “Let us go now to the playroom and not keep her waiting any longer. God knows we owe her for bringing us together.”

When they reached the playroom, Steve took Bucky’s hand and led him inside. As soon as Annabelle looked up and saw them, she squealed loudly, launching herself at her father. He caught her and spun her around before setting her back on the ground, where she looked at Bucky shyly. Bucky held out his arms and she ran to him, hugging him tightly. 

“Oh, father, does this mean…?”

“Bucky and I are to be married,” Steve told her. “Soon, and without delay. You shall be our flower girl.”

“And wear a pretty dress?”

“Yes, and wear a pretty dress.”

She looked consideringly at Bucky. “So can I call you Bucky now?” she asked with a laugh.

Bucky shook his head. “I rather thought ‘papa’ had a nice ring to it.”

She squealed again. “I like that. Father and papa. And you’ll still read to me?”

“If you want me to,” Bucky assured her.

“I do.” She sighed happily. “Oh, everything is perfect.”

Steve and Bucky smiled at each other. It really was.

***

As Bucky had predicted, there was quite a stir when their engagement was announced to the household. Wanda’s eyes filled up with tears when she was given the news, although she tried to hide her face, and Bucky felt a little bad for her. Clearly she had not given up hope of him falling for her. 

Mr Stark and Mrs Hill gave Bucky and Steve congratulations on behalf of the whole staff, but it was clear that they did not approve of the match. Still, they kept their own counsel, and nothing could ruin Bucky’s happiness, not even the disapproval of the staff.

Steve’s closest friends were happy for them both, and Sir Samuel and Lady Natasha sent them a beautiful letter filled with good wishes. Some in his outer circle, however, were not so understanding, and shunned his invitations to the wedding.

“I honestly don’t care,” Steve told Bucky as they sat together on the sofa in the study, scotch in hand, snuggled in next to one another. “If they don’t care about my happiness then they were never real friends to begin with and I’m better off without them.”

Bucky took Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know, I just hate that you’re losing people because of me.”

Steve looked at him, then leaned in to kiss him deeply. “I would rather lose everyone else in the world except you and Annabelle, than have everyone around me but you,” he said softly. 

Bucky couldn’t help himself; he captured Steve’s lips in a deep kiss, and didn’t stop kissing him until his lips were nearly numb.

***

Their wedding was to be in two weeks, at the end of the month, and Bucky was thrilled to not have to wait too long. He could not believe that it was only four months since he had come to Bedford; it was now August, and he was to be married.

His parents and sister had all responded to say they would be there, and although he had asked his cousins out of familial duty he was glad when they made their excuses.

When the day of the wedding finally dawned, Bucky dressed in his wedding suit and brushed his hair down, leaving it loose against his shoulders. He went downstairs by the main staircase, and Steve met him at the bottom, kissing him. 

“You look incredible, my love,” Steve said, his tone worshipful, and Bucky smiled.

“As do you.” And he did. His suit fit him perfectly, and he looked so handsome that Bucky felt as though his heart might burst. 

They were married in the local church, before coming back to the house where the servants had decorated the dining room in readiness for the wedding feast. There were toasts by the best man (Sir Samuel), and the maid of honor (Bucky’s sister, Becca), as well as by the grooms. Much to their surprise, Annabelle stood up on her chair, and cleared her throat. 

The room fell silent, and Annabelle smiled widely. “I just want to say that I love my father and my papa, and I’m glad they’re married, although they never would have seen sense if I hadn’t interfered.” She raised her glass of water. “To my father and papa, may they always be as happy as they are today. ‘With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done, for one is both and both are one in love. Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine’. Both have the strength and both the length thereof, both of us, of the love which makes us one’.”

Bucky felt his eyes fill with happy tears as the guests toasted them again, drinking deep. 

When the feasting had gone on for a while, Annabelle started to nod off beside Steve. Bucky gestured towards her. “Shall we take her to her bed, and then betake ourselves to bed?” he murmured, and Steve nodded, smiling. He picked Annabelle up in his arms, and Sir Samuel tapped his fork against his glass. 

“I believe the happy couple intend to leave us now, but I would like to say on behalf of everyone here: congratulations.” 

A cry of ‘hear, hear’ went up around the room, and Steve and Bucky escaped with their daughter on a wave of raucous laughter.

They took Annabelle to her room and got the sleepy child ready for bed before tucking her in. They both kissed her on the forehead, and she smiled. “Goodnight, father. Goodnight, papa,” she murmured.

“Goodnight,” they echoed, before creeping from the room to their own bedroom. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, kissing him. 

“God, Bucky, I need you now,” he moaned. Bucky hushed him with another kiss.

“Whatever you want, Steve. Whatever you need.”

Steve looked at him, eyes clear and bright. “I need you inside of me. I want to feel you—all of you.” He pressed his hand against Bucky’s hardening cock, and Bucky groaned.

“God, Steve, yes.”

They took their time stripping each other of their suits, until they were down to just their drawers. Bucky ran his hands down Steve’s bare, muscled torso, biting his lip. “God, Bucky, love your hands on me,” Steve managed, hooking his fingers into the waist of Bucky’s drawers and pulling them down. Bucky stepped out of them, before doing the same to Steve, baring Steve to his adoring eyes. 

He was truly beautiful. Bucky felt himself begin to tremble at the sight of his love, naked and aroused. “Jesus, Steve, you’re so…” he began, but was too overcome to finish, so kissed his husband instead. Steve’s hands slid down his back to Bucky’s ass, pulling him close, and Bucky began to move his hips, rubbing their hard cocks together as they kissed.

“God, Bucky, want to suck that gorgeous big dick, can I?” Steve murmured, and Bucky nodded.

“Yes, oh my god, Steve, yes.”

Steve led him over to the bed and they climbed on. Bucky lay back against the pillows, biting his lip as Steve kissed down his chest, before taking his cock in hand and mouthing around the head. Bucky watched, wide eyed, as Steve took his leaking cockhead into his mouth, and began to suck. 

“Jesus,” he cursed, and Steve grinned around his mouthful, before starting to bob his head, stroking what he couldn’t fit with his hand. With his other hand, he played with Bucky’s balls, then pressed his fingers further back, teasing at Bucky’s asshole. “Oh, god, Steve,” Bucky gasped, sensations overwhelming him. “You have to stop, oh god, stop or I’m going to be spent before we’ve even begun.”

Steve pulled off his cock, sliding up the bed to kiss him. “Hmm, we don’t want that,” he said softly between kisses. He rolled over, and took a pot out of the bedside cabinet. He handed it to Bucky, trust in his gaze, and kissed him again. “Go slow, my love. I haven’t done this since university.”

Bucky smiled at him. “I intend to give you such pleasure that you will never even look at another,” he said gently, and Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek in his palm.

“That would be the case anyway.”

Bucky felt as though his heart might explode with love as he leaned down to kiss his husband, and he dipped his fingers in the slick of the pot, getting them as slippery as he could. Steve shifted so his legs were spread, feet planted on the bed. Bucky bent down for more kisses as he teased at Steve’s asshole with his fingers, until Steve was pressing against them, his body begging for more.

He pushed in a single finger, and Steve gasped. Bucky worked him open slowly, adding another finger when he deemed Steve ready for more. 

When he had been fingering Steve with three fingers for a while, Steve whined, pushing Bucky on the shoulder. “God, Bucky, I’m so ready, please, I need you inside me, please!”

Bucky nodded, pulling his fingers out carefully, before slicking up his cock with the slick from the pot. “How do you want to…?” he asked, and Steve grabbed hold of his knees, pulling them back until he was bent almost double. Bucky groaned at the sight of his love, so vulnerable beneath him, and of Steve’s hole, wet and ready for him. He positioned himself before slowly pushing forward, and Steve cried out as Bucky filled him.

When Bucky’s hips met Steve’s ass he paused, giving Steve time to adjust to his not insubstantial girth. Steve was biting his lip, head thrown back against the pillow and fingers clawing at Bucky’s back. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked breathlessly.

Steve nodded. “I’m good, so good, oh Bucky. You can move now.”

Bucky smiled down at him, hair in his face, and Steve reached up to tuck it behind his ears. Bucky began to slowly thrust his hips, and they both gasped at the sensations. Steve was so tight around his cock, muscles squeezing him on every movement, that Bucky wasn’t sure he would last. But he focused himself on Steve’s pleasure, and shifted his hips until Steve began to moan loudly on every thrust. 

“Good?” Bucky panted.

“So good, oh my god, Bucky, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“Good,” Bucky responded, grinning and pounding into Steve harder. Steve was moaning almost constantly now, whimpering and whining, and the noises were driving Bucky wild. “Come on, Steve, touch yourself. I want to see you, want you to spend yourself for me.”

Steve nodded, and began to stroke his own cock in time with Bucky’s thrusts. Bucky kissed him, then dropped a kiss onto his nose, panting harshly on every breath with the exertion. 

“Oh, my god, Bucky, I’m close, so close, keep going, oh my god, _Bucky_ ,” Steve cried, and spent himself all over his stomach and chest. He flopped back against the mattress, dragging his fingers through his essence and pressing them into Bucky’s mouth, and the taste of Steve against his tongue in combination with Steve’s muscles squeezing around him pushed Bucky over the edge and he spent himself with a cry.

They kissed as they caught their breath, then Bucky pulled out of Steve’s ass, frowning when Steve winced.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, and Steve nodded.

“Just rediscovering muscles I’d forgotten about,” Steve reassured him, kissing him again. Bucky flopped down onto the mattress beside Steve, who immediately snuggled against him, head on Bucky’s chest. Bucky pulled the sheet over them and wrapped his arms around his husband, smiling.

“Happy, my love?” he inquired.

Steve laughed. “Never happier.” He dropped a kiss on Bucky’s broad chest. “Now, sleep. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of our lives together.

Bucky allowed himself to drift off, his husband in his arms, to dreams of their future.

***

When Bucky woke, the first thing he saw was bright blue eyes surrounded by blonde curls staring at him, and he let out a surprised yell.

“Whazzit?” Steve asked muzzily

“Annabelle,” Bucky said, as sternly as he could given that he knew he looked ridiculous, his hair sticking up everywhere. “Please stop coming into our room so early in the morning. We’ll see you at breakfast.”

Annabelle sighed. “Fine. See you at breakfast, father. See you, papa.” She left the room, and Steve laughed. 

“We need to start locking that door,” he said with a grin, and Bucky laughed along with him.

“We really do.” He looked at his husband, expression soft.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled gently, and began to recite.

“I want to be your love for ever and ever,  
Without break or decay.  
When the hills are all flat,  
The rivers are all dry.  
When it thunders in winter,  
When it snows in summer  
When heaven and earth mingle,  
Not till then will I part from you.”

“Is that how you feel this morning?” Steve asked him, and Bucky nodded.

“It’s how I will feel every day that I'm with you.”

Steve kissed him and Bucky smiled into the kiss. Annabelle and breakfast would just have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Poems are, in order:  
> A Country Fair For Those Mad With Love - Ramprasad  
> The Gift - Hafiz  
> When You Are Old - Yeats  
> I Loved You First: But Afterwards Your Love - Christina Rossetti  
> Yuefu folk poem of Han Dynasty


End file.
